


given which there is no need for man

by Anonymous



Category: Christian Bible (New Testament), Original Work
Genre: Gen, Heaven, Religion, sort of a horror story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:57:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: But strait is the road and narrow the gate, and those who enter by it are few.





	given which there is no need for man

You are in heaven because, quote, “what the fuck, no, we don’t just send people to hell for being sinful, we only send people to hell if they look at what we’re offering and say ‘no, fuck you, I hate God and I don’t want your gift, I’d rather be in hell.’ We’re not going to send you to hell for being mean to people when you were alive.”

The angel, when it said that, made a grand gesture encompassing the ethereal city. You looked down from the well-positioned welcome balcony where you landed after your heart attack. You saw every sort of wealth and luxury. The gold-paved streets were lined with elegant, tasteful buildings. A stately public library, a huge public pool, a public park so wild and vast you could get lost in it. Farther away was desert, but a sparkling desert peppered with oases and cacti.

You’re in heaven. You’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s as beautiful as it seems. You aren’t being manipulated into wondering if you don’t deserve it. They’re very clear that yeah you got coffee at Starbuck’s instead of giving to an effective and efficient charity to prevent malaria, but seriously what kind of asshole sends someone to hell over that? If your only choice for everyone is heaven or hell, who sends anyone to hell? So here you are.

You checked out the pool first. You missed swimming. You met a man there lounging on the deck who said he was a writer when he was alive. Not anymore. You asked why he stopped and he told you to go check out the local library. You went swimming first. Laps. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. You wore a swimsuit of your own imagining: you wanted one and there it was.

You’re in heaven. You don’t get hungry or thirsty anymore but you also don’t get full. You can eat with magical, impossible neatness. You don’t get tired or need to use the restroom, either.

You went to the library next. It’s huge, seven floors, marble columns, shelves that reach the ceiling, books and books and books and books. You forgot to breathe for a moment. Yeah, you’d seen a library before, a little one, kind of cozy, three rooms, the size of a small house. It was the one you went to at home: the bright-colored children’s section at first, with its shelves of Eyewitness videos and The Very Hungry Caterpillar and Horrible Harry by the huge window near the beanbag chairs. Then the little single shelf at the edge of the children’s section, with Harry Potter and the Chronicles of Narnia. Later the shelves and shelves of nonfiction drew you, chemistry and history and memoir, and the small cozy alcove with the round table and chairs that looked like they belonged in someone’s grandmother’s kitchen. The thing you remember most about that library, the thing that faded as it felt smaller and you wanted more that they didn’t have, is the search. You were five when your parents took you to get a library card. You didn’t, yet, know what it was to be capable. You were just a child. But your parents told you you could go find whatever you wanted in the library so you looked carefully at the names and sounded them out until you found a movie about fish, all by yourself.

The heavenly library is bigger than that, big enough that you felt challenged to explore it. And you did, and it was great, but finally you got tired of looking and just wanted the book you were looking for and there it was. Right at eye level, mis-shelved, two seconds after you noticed you were tired of being lost. You took it to a window seat and sat and read the whole thing in one sitting and when you wanted another book you realized you could just ask the library and it would appear. So you just asked the library and it appeared.

You’ve been in the library for a while now. You don’t know how long. Days? Does time actually mean anything here? When you want a new book you ask for it and it appears. When you want the stack of already-read books to go away to wherever they belong they vanish. You’re, literally, in heaven.

You wish for a really clear introductory text on quantum physics that will make it all make sense to you.

You try really hard to read the book you get.

You can’t.

You sigh and wish you could understand it.

You have a sudden epiphany.

You set the book aside since you know everything in it and wish for another one. War and Peace. You always wanted to have read that one. You never really wanted to read it, though. You try. Then you remember you can just not. You know everything in it as if you’d just finished reading it. You set it aside. You wish the discard pile away. You’re bored. You get up. Your joints aren’t stiff from sitting in one position for so long at all. Your body’s pretty great, actually. You wonder if you could take up weightlifting now. You wonder if you could just get a body that can lift two hundred pounds without needing to put in the work. It seems less appealing that way but it would be a waste of time that you could use for something else, if you can just wish yourself stronger. Then you can skip straight to lifting things and feeling proud.

Except there won’t be anything to be proud of. You’ll just have been given a gift.

You could get into synchronized swimming, maybe.

You wish yourself back at the pool. The writer is still there, still lounging on the deck.

“Enjoy the library?” he asks.

“Yeah! It was awesome.”

“Did it answer your question?”

“Uh… no, not really. Why did you quit writing?”

“I first became a writer because my favorite stories when I was a kid never starred anyone who looked like me or came from a family like mine. I couldn’t find any of the sort of books I wanted to read, and it got me started on the most fulfilling career path there is. It was great to know I was really making a difference, you know? To how people saw themselves.”

“And the library…”

“When I ask it for a book, it provides.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

You sit and look away. You watch the pool. Sunlight sparkles on the water.

You are not an ungrateful sinner who would spit in the face of Jesus’s sacrifice. You are not ungrateful. You are not. You are so happy here. You aren’t going to complain about anything and get sent to hell. You will not. This is everything you ever wanted and you will enjoy it. Forever.


End file.
